


Where Angels Fear To Tread

by OrigamiDoll



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pie, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrigamiDoll/pseuds/OrigamiDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader meets the Winchesters and Castiel when they roll through town on a hunt. They inadverdently expose her to the supernatural and turn her world view upside down. Soon, her house becomes a frequent detour for the boys and a friendship begins to blossom between the reader and Team Free Will. Castiel finds himself fascinated by the reader. Where will things lead?</p><p>I'm sorry if this is vague. I don't like summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, like ever. Also the first substantial fiction I've written in a long time. I'm working on the tags and will likely add more as this piece develops. I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes as I don't have anyone to beta this. Hope you enjoy. xx

"I hate this kind of weather", grumbled Dean, bringing his black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala to a slow halt alongside the curb and shutting her off. He huffed, peering disdainfully at the drizzle that was already obscuring his view outside now the windshield wipers had stopped.

It had not been a good morning. If he were honest with himself he was really just looking for excuses to gripe, but knowing that did nothing to improve his mood. He rubbed his eyes a few times with thumb and forefinger, then ran a hand through his short, dark blonde hair in frustration and maybe a little regret.

Sam glanced sideways from the passenger seat at his riled up brother. He was feeling a little guilty for rousing Dean from sleep so early and insisting they begin questioning their only lead before any kind of breakfast. He'd clearly over indulged during his late night stay at the bar last night, and Sam wondered if he should have even been driving.

"I promise this won't take long. Soon as we get this out of the way we'll find somewhere around here that does pie. Okay?" Sam raised his eyebrows looking hopeful at the gruff man in the driver’s seat.

All he got was an affirmative half grunt in response, which he knew was the best he could expect. He opened the glove compartment, rifling through a sizeable collection of various forms of official looking identification wallets and checking several before handing one to his brother and slipping one of his own into the top inside pocket of his grey suit jacket. He checked himself in the rear view mirror, hazel eyes staring back at him. He smoothed down his not-quite shoulder length chocolate brown hair, straightened the blue tie over his white shirt and then stepped out into the drizzle that was beginning to lighten up.

Dean sighed, pocketed his own ID wallet and glanced at himself in the rear view mirror, slapped his cheeks a couple of times each and frowned at the bloodshot whites surrounding the vivid green irises looking back at him. After buttoning the top button of his white shirt and tightening the red tie that had been hanging loose, Dean clambered out and straightened the lapels of his navy suit jacket.

They crossed the road and passed through the open gate into the front garden of a charming two storey house. It was the kind of house you expected to find a sweet old grandmother in, slowly tending the garden or sitting on the porch knitting. Sam paused half way up the stone path leading to the porch steps, noting the beds of dahlias, chrysanthemums and roses covered in buds. There was a brisk chill to the air this time of year so the garden wasn't quite ready to bloom. Still, he could tell that in a few weeks the garden would be bursting with colour and buzzing with bees. A small admiring smile crept up to his lips before he continued following his brother to the front door.

Dean had already climbed the steps and was taking in his surroundings.

"So who are we questioning again?"

"Ms Y/N L/N. She found the guy the night he was murdered", Sam replied.

"Well let’s get this over with then", Dean grumbled.

Sam was beginning to wonder if he should ask his surly brother to wait in the car while he conducted the interview solo, but Dean was already pressing the doorbell and putting his game face on. Hopefully they could get this over with quickly, and Sam wouldn't have to apologize too much for his brother.

They heard quick footsteps from inside approaching the door. A lock clicked and the door handle turned before the door swung open several inches and a pair of hazel eyes with long, dark lashes peered out from the gap. The face they belonged to was pretty. Dark brown bangs framed high cheek bones, smooth skin and soft, full pink lips that were pulled down into a slight frown. There was a smear of white dust, probably flour, across one cheek. Both men paused taking in the sight before them, silently assessing and concluding that the woman still mostly concealed behind the door was probably only in her mid-twenties.

"I'm sorry, can I help you?" Her voice was huskier than either of them expected, and Sam, feeling the shift in mood from his brother, spoke up before Dean could say something inappropriate.

"We're looking for Ms Y/N L/N."

"That's me", she replied, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. Dean had to hold back a grin. Both boys whipped out their badges, holding them up for inspection.

"I'm Special Agent Bonham, and this is my partner, Special Agent Copeland. We're sorry to bother you this morning, but we were hoping you could answer a few questions for us." Sam gave her a small, comforting smile as he finished their introductions. The woman eyed them for a moment before returning Sam's smile. He noted the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I assume this is about Jerry then", the woman stated, smile disappearing as her gaze dropped and she let out a quiet, sad sigh. She opened the door fully then revealing a curvaceous figure in an oversized light grey sweater, form fitting blue denim jeans with the hems rolled up above the ankles, black Converse and a red and white checked apron. A pale green tea towel was draped over one shoulder. She stepped aside and motioned for the men to enter. Once they were inside she closed the door locking it with a click.

“Do you mind if we do this in the kitchen while I keep cooking?” Y/N asked as she began leading them down the hall.

“That’s fine. Whatcha making?” Dean asked.

“Pie. I tend to bake when the weather is like this”, she replied and noticed Dean’s face light up like a kid in a candy store.

“The one I’m making won’t be ready for a while”, she added. ”But I still have some pecan that I baked on Monday I can offer, and I was about to put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

“That would be very kind”, responded Dean, an eager smile plastered to his face.

“Just coffee for me, thank you”, Sam said, giving his brother a meaningful look once Y/N had turned the corner.

 _She offered_ , mouthed Dean before sauntering after her into a large kitchen of stone bench tops and polished wood cupboards. Y/N was already fixing the coffee pot to brew. She motioned for them to sit on the wooden stools at the breakfast bar and fetched half a pecan pie from the fridge, cutting a generous slice and setting it in front of Dean on a white plate with a fork and napkin.

“This looks amazing”, said Dean, cutting the first bite off his slice with the fork and bringing it up to his mouth. Eyes closed, he savoured that first bite, pure joy settling on his face. “It tastes amazing too”, he praised, quickly bringing a second forkful of pie to his mouth.

“Thank you”, she smiled. “But it wasn’t my pie you came here for. Why is the FBI looking into Jerry’s murder anyway, Agent Bonham?” She addressed Sam, seeing Dean was more than engrossed in the pastry treat in front of him.

“We just go where the bureau sends us, Ms L/N. We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

"No, it’s fine. Really. I’m happy to help with the investigation anyway I can. Jerry was a work colleague and a friend, and I’d feel a lot safer if whoever did this could be caught.” She smiled, but it was forced.

“Thank you, Ms L/N,” Sam continued. “We understand you found Jerry Brooks’ body. Is that correct?”

“Y/N is fine, and yes, I found him in the alley behind the clinic. He’d finished his shift a couple of hours earlier that evening and I was locking up to leave when I saw him collapsed against the dumpster. ”

“Did you noticed anything strange, or odd at the time, or see anyone nearby?”

She looked down at her hands then and fidgeted. Sam followed her gaze and noticed her fingering a gold wedding band on her left hand.

“We understand this must be hard to recount. Please, take as much time as you need.” Sam gave her a sympathetic look and waited patiently. His gut told him she might have some information that would help at least narrow down whatever it was that had done this.

She nodded and took a deep breath before moving toward the oven to take out the pie crust. The smell of fresh baked pastry intensified. Dean was still savouring a forkful of pie, but his attention had been brought back to the woman standing on the other side of the breakfast bar. He was trying to pick-up any body language he could from her to indicate she might be hiding something, but all he got was thoughtfulness and sadness. By now she was taking a saucepan off the gas flame and turning it off, setting the pot aside to cool. When she turned back to face them her brow was slightly furrowed as if weighing up options.

“It was dark when I came out, and the light in that alley isn’t the greatest”, she began, not quite looking at either of the men in front of her. “It could have been a trick of the light, or it could have just been me seeing things as I began to process that Jerry was mutilated in front of me, but… I think, I thought, I saw someone, a figure, standing in the dark area further down the alley. But when I blinked it was gone.”

“What, they just vanished into thin air?” Dean asked. His focus was completely on Y/N now, the last few bites of pie forgotten.

“Crazy, right? I’m pretty sure I was just seeing things. I didn’t even see it long enough to get any details. Just a kind of impression that there might have been someone there for a second. I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I mentioning this. I didn’t even tell the police when they questioned me because I was sure I’d imagined it.” She was fidgeting with her wedding band again and both men noticed, turning to give each other a meaningful look before focusing back on the now nervous woman in front of them.

“We don’t think you’re crazy, but why didn’t you tell local law enforcement about what you saw? Or, thought you saw”, Sam asked carefully, not wanting to make the woman feel like she was being dismissed. He was already beginning to piece together a theory, and he knew his brother was too.

“Like I said, I wasn’t sure I saw it. It was almost like I felt it more than saw it really, and I didn’t think it was substantial enough to mention.” She was beginning to look unsure of herself now and turned to stir the saucepan she’d set aside before scooping the deep red mixture from it into the cooled pie crust.

“You felt it?” asked Dean? “Did you happen to ‘feel’ anything else in the alley that night? Like, I don’t know, like someone was watching you? Or maybe like it was colder than usual?” Y/N stopped with the spoon she was holding heaped with cherry filling halfway between the saucepan and the pie tin. It began to drip onto the bench before she placed it back in the pot.

“Yes, it was. So cold. It was icy that night, almost like we’d just had a fresh snowfall, which is weird in the middle of May.” Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper. “I thought it was just because I was scared though.” She turned to face Sam and Dean, looking each of them in the eye. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess”, Dean replied smiling warmly at her. Y/N continued to stare at them both, almost like she was assessing them and Sam felt the need to change the topic.

“Uh, how about that coffee?” he queried.

“Right. Yes, of course.” She turned her back to them both to retrieve two clean mugs from the cupboard and filled them along with her own with the fresh, hot brew. She set the steaming mugs in front of them along with spoons, a bowl of sugar and cream. Y/N added a heaped spoon of sugar and plop of cream to her own mug and then took a sip while the boys added their own.

Dean remembered the remaining pie on the plate in front of him and began alternating bites of pie with swigs of coffee. His hangover was slowly subsiding and his mood was improving rapidly. He had coffee and pie, all served up to him by an attractive woman. His day was looking better and better, and he had no objections to letting Sam take the lead in questioning while he took his time appreciating the sight before him.

“You said you and Jerry were friends. Were you close?” Sam asked.

“Not close, just friends. We worked together, and sometimes we all went out for drinks afterwards with the rest of the team. We weren’t besties though if that’s what you mean.” She set her coffee mug down and turned back to the half completed pie, scooping in the last of the filling and then carefully laying the top crust over it. She pressed the edge down with her fingertips and cut away the excess before placing it in the oven and setting the timer.

“You don’t know of any enemies he might have then? Someone that might have held a grudge against him?” Sam probed.

“No, Jerry was harmless. He mostly kept to himself. I honestly can’t imagine anyone holding a grudge against him. The guy spent most his spare time playing video games from what I gathered. He talked about them all the time; was kind of reclusive in that respect. I think coming out for drinks with the team might have been the only social contact he got outside of actual work.”

“No girlfriend then?” Dean interjected.

“No.” Y/N was fidgeting with her wedding band again, and both Sam and Dean could see the guilt that flashed across her face, and her eyes misting up with the beginnings of tears.

“I’m sorry agents, it’s just been rough with all this happening this week.” She looked up, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. As Dean was about to ask her another question ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ by Pat Benatar started playing. Y/N began digging through the pockets of her jeans and fished out a smart phone checking the screen.

“I’m sorry, I need to take this. It’s work.” She answered the call, cutting the song short, and stepped out into the hall. The boys waited until her voice was faint enough they couldn’t make out what she was saying before speaking together in hushed tones.

“She’s hiding something", Sam stated.

“Yeah, I think her and Jerry had more going on than just drinks after work”, Dean agreed. “You think hubby knows and decided to take out Jerry?”

“I don’t know. I think there’s something more going on here. From the figure she thinks she saw and the cold spot she felt this whole thing is screaming vengeful spirit. We should check out violent deaths around the area.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Dean rubbed a hand down his face, clearly not enthused at the thought of digging through old articles.

“Shhh!” Sam hissed, hearing footsteps approaching from the hall. When Y/N entered the kitchen again they were both waiting quietly. Y/N apologized for the disruption.

“Is everything alright?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, they just need me to come in and cover the late shift tonight.”

“Why don’t we leave you to it then. You’ve been most helpful and we don’t want to take up anymore of your time.” Sam fished a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “Call if you think of anything else though, no matter how strange or irrelevant you might feel it is.”

“And thanks for the pie. Best pecan I’ve had in a long time”, Dean added, flashing Y/N a grin.

“Thank you, and you’re welcome.” She gave them both a small smile and saw them out.

“Damn I wish I could have a slice of that cherry pie”, Dean exclaimed once they were back at the car, and smirk spread across his face.

“Do you mean her, or the actual pie?” Sam asked, knowing full well it could be both.

“The pie, Sammy!” Dean shot back. “Though a slice of her might not be out of the question,” he added, eyes glazing over slightly as he let his mind wander to what that might involve.

“Dude, just drive”, Sam pleaded. Dean fired up the classic car and headed back into town. They still had a ghost to hunt, and no idea where to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did mention this was a slow build? Also, I promise Cas will appear in the next chapter. Hope you liked it. I'll post the next chapter soon (hopefully). Would love feedback. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel appears and the plot thickens.

Sam pushed himself back from the tiny computer screen and threw his hands half way up in exasperation then let them drop heavily to the office chair’s armrests. He let his head fall back and took a long, deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it. He’d been trawling the scanned newspaper archives for hours now and wasn’t any closer to knowing who their vengeful spirit was.

He glanced around the now empty library. Neon colour changing line shapes bounced around the three unoccupied computer screens. The white desks behind him were completely bare and all the chairs had been pushed in, neatly spaced and orderly. The only sound was the occasional faint squeak of a metal book trolley being wheeled a few paces at a time before it was silenced again.

A huff passed his lips as he wrote the research session off as a failure. He saved the notes he’d made on his laptop and stuffed it in his bag, closed all open windows on the library computer he’d been using and stood. As he stretched to release the tension from his shoulders and back he silently thanked himself for stopping by the motel on the way over to change into his far more comfortable blue jeans, grey t-shirt, blue and brown plaid button down and khaki green canvas jacket. Hoisting the brown leather laptop bag to his shoulder he began making his way across the greying, threadbare green carpet, wondering if Dean had been luckier on his expedition. It was at that moment the chirpy ringtone of his phone began playing. He only glanced at the screen long enough to see it was Dean before he answered.

“Hey,” Sam greeted.

“Hey, how’d you go?”

“Not great; I got bupkis. Nothing I’ve found gives any clue as to why there’d be vengeful spirit hiding out in an alley to gut this guy.”

“Awesome,” Dean replied sarcastically.

“What about you? Find anything at Jerry’s?” Sam was hoping Dean had at least found them a clue.

“Yeah, actually. It’s looking like Y/N was definitely closer to this guy than she was letting on.” Dean said, not sounding too happy. “This Jerry guy had pictures of her and of the two of them together taped to the sides of his computer screens. Either they had a thing, or this guy was seriously creeping on her.”

“You think we should question her again?”

“Yeah, but it can wait until tomorrow. I want to check out the alley behind the clinic. And then I want a drink. You in?”

“Nah, I think I’m going to head back to the motel and see if I can find anything else,” Sam replied.

“Your loss, Sammy,” Dean said, and then ended the call.

Sam pushed through the glass and steel library doors to the damp street. It was dark, but the smell of freshly fallen rain still lingered in the air, and the street lamps cast pale yellow reflections on the wet road. He was thankful the rain had ceased and set a leisurely pace as he began the short walk back to the seedy motel, idly hoping his brother would go easier at the bar than the night before.

 

* * *

 

The black Impala slowly cruised to a stop, engine ceasing and headlights shutting off. Dean sat patiently for several minutes, scoping out the surroundings and ensuring no-one else was about before stepping out into the side street. He swiftly retrieved his colt pistol from the waistband of his blue jeans. The engraved slide gleamed and the ivory grips felt comforting as he checked the clip and reloaded it smoothly before concealing it once again, tucked against the small of his back.

He slipped into the dimly lit alley, checking again to make sure he was alone while fumbled in the pockets of his well-worn, dark brown leather jacket. He soon held an EMF reader; a small black box with LEDs across the top. Extending its silver antenna he continued slowly toward the dumpster, skirting shallow puddles as he went.

As he drew nearer the EMF reader began bleeping and the red LEDs lit up flashing. The closer he got the more intense both the signal and the flashing became, reaching its peak when he stood in front of the dumpster that was next to the back door of the clinic. Dean noted the signal wasn’t at full strength, but it had been a few days since the incident so it was evidence enough for him – they were most definitely dealing with a spirit of some sort.

He peered toward the far end of the alley. There was no light source down there; deep shadows made it hard to tell if it was a dead end or not. Dean took a few wary steps toward it past the dumpsters and the EMF reader went berserk. Dean’s eyes went wide as he stared at the reader, indicating maximum EMF levels and then darted back to the shadows. A figure had appeared in the gloom.

Dean cursed himself for leaving his sawn-off shotgun loaded with rock salt rounds in the boot of his car. Reflexively he pocketed the reader, withdrew his pistol and cocked it, aiming for the approaching figure’s chest. He took a couple of steps back and braced himself.

A man stepped from the dark shadows into the dim pool of light wearing a long, rumpled tan trench coat over an equally rumpled black suit with a white button down shirt and a loosened, crooked blue tie. His dark hair was dishevelled, haphazardly sticky up in all directions like he’d just gotten out of bed, but his face was stoic. Brilliant, deep blue eyes stared at the startled man holding the pistol.

“Hello, Dean”, greeted the man. His voice was low and rough but comforting, like gravel and honey.

“Cas, what the hell?! I nearly shot you!” Dean scolded angrily, tucking his gun away again.

“I was respecting your personal space,” replied the trench coated man solemnly. Dean ran a hand over his mouth and the light stubble adorning his chin to give himself a moment to calm down.

“What are you even doing here? I thought you couldn’t find us anymore after you did the thing with the ribs and the pain.” Dean was frowning now.

“You called me, Dean. Last night. I believe it is called ‘drunk dialling’.” Cas gestured inverted comas when he mentioned drunk dialling. “You were talking about a murder and drinking. It sounded like you needed my help.” Dean paused for a moment attempting to recall the previous night.

“Wait, I think I remember. I wanted a drinking buddy after Sammy left me at the bar. What took you so long?”

“I’ve been looking for you all day. You told me the town you were in, but no address.” Cas was calm, but there was a slight edge to his voice now that hinted he too was slightly irritated.

“Oh, right.” Dean looked a little guilty. “Well I asked you to come out drinking with me, so I may as well drag you along now. Come on.” He began heading back the way he’d come. When he looked over his shoulder Cas was still standing in the same spot, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Well? You coming?” Dean asked.

“We are not going to another… den of iniquity?” Apprehension played across his face, and his blue eyes darted around nervously.

“Don’t tell me Castiel, angel of the Lord, is scared of being around ladies now.” Cas glanced away in response. “No, Cas, just a bar. And if anyone is picking up tonight it’s going to be me. Come on, you can be my wingman.” Dean paused for a moment and then chuckled to himself.

“I don’t understand how my wings would assist in this instance.” Cas frowned, but began following Dean to the alley entrance. Dean gave him a withered look but decided not to try to explain at this point. He whipped out his phone and began typing a text message to Sam to let him know about the EMF readings and the angel he now had in tow. He hit send and made sure his car was locked.

“Sorry, Baby. We’ll be back for you later,” he said affectionately giving the roof of the car a pat.

 

* * *

 

Dean leaned back in his wooden chair, sipping clear, amber beer from the pint glass he held, and glancing around the bar. Castiel was sat across watching Dean intently, his own beer sitting untouched on the small, round wooden table between them.

The smell of beer, spirits and fried foods permeated everywhere, though not unpleasantly. The bar wasn’t full, but it was far from empty. Several of the other tables were also occupied by people catching up with friends or winding down after a day at work, and four men were perched at the bar, quietly drowning their troubles. The juke box was playing Sweet Home Alabama, and it all created a laid back, homely atmosphere that Dean felt himself sinking into, a smile playing across his lips.

Dean had filled Castiel in on the case so far and both were puzzling over who’s spirit would have been angered enough to end the man now lying the local morgue. They hadn’t heard anything further from Sam either and Dean was trying not to let their lack of progress get under his skin.

He glanced over at the pool table and noted the game had come to an end, the loser reluctantly paying out to the winner before heading over to the bar to perch on a vacant stool.

“Cas, I’m going to go win us some more drinking money. You just sit tight.” Dean was up making his way to the pool table before the angel could protest, swaying more than he should have been for the little amount of alcohol he’d consumed. Castiel watched with interest from where he was seated as Dean challenged a lanky man with long, greasy brown hair in torn, skinny black jeans, a Greenday band shirt and a green and black checked shirt. A smug grin spread across the man’s face as Dean clumsily laid down a fifty and grabbed for a pool cue.

Dean played the game poorly, often missing the white ball entirely, or sending his balls anywhere but the pockets. Castiel was surprised as he was sure this was the kind of game Dean would excel at.

Before long the game was done, and Dean was already asking for a second round, laying down three hundred dollars this time. His opponent greedily agreed to round two, laying down his own money and racking up the balls. He glanced over at Castiel, winked, and then broke, gracefully, sending two solids into pockets. He was already lining up his next shot and the lanky man was staring, mouth agape as Dean sank three more balls in quick succession. The game was over in a matter of minutes and Dean was collecting his winnings and wishing his stunned opponent better luck next time.

Meanwhile, Castiel had lost interest in the game and was instead observing a man in blue jeans, a beige sweater and a navy blazer standing and speaking to two women sat at a table in the corner on the far side of the bar. Human courting rituals were a mystery to him and he took every opportunity he could to learn more about them.

One of the women was blonde with wavy hair down to her waist. She wore a low cut white top under a red cardigan and white jeans. She was plump, but confident in the way she held herself, and smiled a lot. The other woman had dark hair that was pulled back, but wisps had escaped and were framing her face. The blue denim jacket over her white blouse and dark grey slacks made her otherwise professional appearance more casual. She wasn’t smiling as much, and when she did it seemed forced. The man seemed to be focusing his attention to the dark haired woman, but the blonde was the one responding more.

Little did Castiel know the dark haired woman he was watching was Y/N, and the blonde sitting with her was her work colleague, Suzie. She’d practically dragged Y/N to the bar after their shift was over to talk to her and make sure she was okay after finding their co-worker’s body. Castiel watched the man lean down to take Y/N’s hand and give it kiss, then whisper something in her ear before he walked off. He saw Y/N roll her eyes a little once the man was gone and Suzie reached over to squeeze her hand reassuringly.

It was then that Y/N looked up and saw Castiel staring at her. Their eyes met and for a moment neither moved. Y/N smiled and Castiel suddenly became uncomfortable and broke eye contact, looking away nervously. It was then Dean thumped the table, spilling the still untouched beer slightly. Dean’s green eyes sparkled as he counted his winnings.

“I’m getting another drink”, Dean declared. “You going to finish that one so I can get you another, or are you going to just stare at it longingly all night?” Castiel glanced down at his forgotten drink and then brought it his lips and began chugging. The glass was emptied in one go and set back on the table.

“Alright! I think whiskey is in order now”, responded Dean, impressed with the angel’s drinking abilities. Castiel timidly glanced back toward the table the women had been sitting at but both had vanished.

Leaning on his elbows against the dark wooden bar attempting to get the bartenders attention to order their next round, Dean’s phone began ringing. It was Sam.

“Heya, Sammy. You should be here. I’m going to try to get Cas drunk.” Dean grinned at the thought of seeing his angelic friend inebriated.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sam asked, knowing it probably wasn’t.

“It will be hilarious. Come on, you gotta get over here and help me.”

“I’ll pass. Anyway, I called because I think I found something on the case, and if I’m right then Y/N is definitely involved.” Sam sounded worried, making Dean forget about his plans to get Castiel drunk.

“What did you dig up?”

“So get this, after I couldn’t find anything on deaths in the local area that might match up with this ghost I thought I’d check out the obituaries. Turns out Y/N’s husband, Tom, died a little over a year ago in a plane crash on his way back home from a work trip. I think he’s our guy.”

“And he must have gone after Jerry in a jealous rage or something”, Dean added. “So where is this guy buried then? We gotta salt and burn him before he starts making her love life a nightmare.”

“He was cremated”, Sam revealed.

“Son of a bitch”, was all Dean responded with.

“We’re going to need to find what’s keeping him here, and probably keep an eye on Y/N to make sure she doesn’t do anything to get him lashing out again in the meantime.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll head back now and work out what we’re going to do once we get there.” Dean ended the call and sighed. He was almost relieved to hear they finally had their ghost pinned, but not having any bones to burn made things far more complicated. The spirit was obviously tethered to something from his life and it could be anything. He was wrenched from his thoughts by the sound of someone screaming to call 911.

Dean raced toward the man that was screaming from the doorway of the men's bathrooms. The man was white as a sheet, eyes wide and frantic. Dean acted quickly, flashing his FBI badge and telling him to calm down and get the bartender to call 911. Castiel was by Dean’s side a moment later and both walked cautiously into the bathroom.

There was blood everywhere, splashed against the pale green wall tiles and pooling on the grimy white floor. A man was slumped against the far wall, eyes bloody and scratched, chest wide open and gaping. Just like Jerry had been found. Dean noticed the air was icy and brought out the EMF reader hastily. It began beeping and flashing frantically.

Castiel moved toward the victim and examined him closely, noting the beige of his sweater where the blood hadn’t splattered and the navy blazer. He frowned and turned to Dean.

“I saw this man earlier speaking to two women. We should find them and question them”, Castiel stated.

“Wait, what? What did they look like? The women?” Dean asked, a cold feeling settling in his stomach.

“One was blonde and, the other had dark hair. They would have been in their twenties”, Cas recalled. Dean pursed his lips.

“Son of a bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't write as easily as the first. The next chapter may have a slightly longer wait as I feel like I'm already beginning to hit a wall with this, but I'll keep pushing it. Apologies again for any spelling, grammar. Please leave comments with feedback and thoughts to keep me motivated to churn out chapter 3!
> 
> EDIT: Chapter 3 is underway, just haven't had as much time to write as I'd like due to work getting crazy as we draw nearer the holidays. Have also been getting distracted by some of the amazing works some of you have pumped out here. Soon though! The next fix will be here soon. I love comments and feedback so please let me know what you think of the road so far. xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little short, but I really wanted to post it for you guys! Merry (belated) Christmas!

The blue glow of the laptop and the fluorescent light shining through the half open bathroom door were all that illuminated the brown motel room. Sam sat slightly hunched tapping away on the laptop keyboard, pausing occasionally to take a sip from his bottled beer or to scratch his nose.

He looked up when he heard a key turning in the lock. The door opened and Dean shuffled in looking exhausted. He gently kicked the door closed behind him and made his way to the mini fridge, pulling out a beer. He cracked it open and took a long pull before he moved to sit down on the side of one of the brown duvet covered beds, setting the beer aside for a moment on the bedside table so he could bend down and unlace his boots.

“What took you so long getting back?” Sam asked, and glanced at the closed motel room door. “And where’s Cas?”

“There was another body found at the bar; a guy named Phil Compton”, Dean answered kicking his boots aside and reaching for his beer again.

“What?” Sam replied. “Was it our vengeful spirit?”

“Yeah, Sammy. The EMF reader went berserk and there were people that saw Y/N and this Phil guy talking just before it happened, including Cas.”

“So where is Cas now?” Sam repeated.

“I sent him to have a closer look at the bodies for us”, Dean answered, running a hand over his face and through his hair. “We’ll start checking around Y/N’s place in the morning, but right now I really need some shut eye.” He downed the last of his beer and began stripping off his leather jacket, dark green button down and blue jeans, leaving him in just a black t-shirt and dark green boxer briefs while the discarded clothing was piled on the floor. Evidently exhausted, he clambered under the duvet and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep in minutes.

 

* * *

 

Castiel stood on the pavement outside Y/N’s house staring up at it, his tan trench coat stirring lazily in the cool evening breeze. It was quite late, probably close to two in the morning, but he could see there were still lights on the second storey. After closely examining both the bodies he had felt compelled to check that the woman he’d seen at the bar, and that these murders appeared to be linked to, was safe. He knew Sam and Dean would normally ‘stake out’ this woman’s house, but both of them needed rest. As an angel that required neither sleep nor sustenance Castiel could keep watch all night and ensure this woman’s safety.

As he stood justifying his presence to himself Y/N’s face appeared in the window and looked down at him. Before eye contact could be made the angel vanished in a panic, making himself undetectable. He did not want to alarm her, and felt it may be best to remain hidden entirely.

Keeping himself concealed from human eyes Castiel moved from the pavement outside to the corner of the room inside that the woman had been peering through the window from. It was a bedroom with a huge, king size bed covered in white pillows and a deep blue doona sat in the centre, headboard against the pale grey wall. A deep blue, plush rug covered much of the polished wood floor and a white dressing table and chair sat opposite the bed in the spacious room. Soft light filled the room from a tall lamp near the bed.

Castiel forgot all about his intentions to check the house for dangers, and instead watched quietly as Y/N, oblivious to his presence, drew the blue and white curtains closed and let out a deep breath with a little huff. He was drawn once again to her hazel eyes; dark brown at the centre moving out to golden brown all flecked with green and gold and outlined with an unsual dark grey-blue. It was mesmerizing and he could have stared at them for hours, mapping out the patterns, but was brought out of his exploration when she turned.

Y/N removed her hair tie letting her dark, wavy hair haphazardly fall to brush her shoulders, and placed the black elastic on the dressing table. Tilting her head back and running her hands through the soft strands to fluff it up and loosen the tension in her scalp left her hair looking mussed in the most inviting way. As she began to unbutton her blouse the angel watched, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Y/N slipped the white blouse down her shoulders and off, revealing a generous bosom contained by a white lace bra. Castiel found himself transfixed on the sight before him as she draped the blouse over the white chair in front of the dressing table. She unclasped and unzipped her dark grey slacks and let them slip down her thighs, over her knees and to her ankles before she stepped out of them and draped them over the chair as well.

As his brilliant blue eyes travelled over her smooth, pale skin almost reverently, drinking in the sight of her standing in just the white bra and lavender panties, Castiel felt something within himself tighten. It was unfamiliar; intriguing and halting at the same time. He had never watched a female human undress before and frowned at the inner turmoil building as he felt both pleased and uncomfortable at this situation. The curves of her body were distracting in a way he had not experienced before from any of God’s creations, and he wondered if this was a response from himself or merely his vessel.

All his thoughts ceased as Y/N unclasped and removed the white lace bra, leaving her generous breasts bare. Watching with eyes wide, Castiel felt both uncomfortable and fascinated as she reached her arms up far above her head and arched her back, pushing her chest out as she stretched and yawned wide. Staring at the soft flesh being slowly thrust forward an overwhelming desire to touch took over and he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to abandon such thoughts.

By the time he had opened them again and risked a glance toward Y/N she was covered by an oversized, faded red t-shirt. Settling with the more familiar level of clothing Castiel watched the dark haired woman yawn once more and crawl under the thick, deep blue doona. The room was enveloped in darkness as she switched off the tall lamp and before long the only sound was her shallow, steady breaths.

As the angel watched over her he wondered why he felt himself compelled to stay by her, and why he couldn’t rid the image of her soft, round breasts laid out bare before him, or those mesmerizing hazel eyes staring across the bar, from his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Is the way things are going on 'the road so far' working for you guys? Please keep the comments coming. xxx


	4. Chapter 4

Things were already busy at the clinic with people bustling around to see to patients’ needs. The familiar smell of hospital disinfectant woke Y/N up faster than the enormous coffee in the white take-away paper cup she held as she strolled through the white, grey and pastel seafoam green halls to the Diagnostic Radiology area. She dropped her messenger bag on a dark green vinyl bucket chair and seated herself on the mesh-backed desk chair. Pushing some papers out of the way and setting her coffee down on the desk she tapped the keyboard a few times, bringing the flat computer screen to life, and began reading through her schedule for the day. As she typed adding a few notes for herself the blonde woman she’d been with at the bar the night before popped her head round the door.

“What are you doing here? You’re not due to start for at least another couple of hours,” exclaimed Suzie in mock disbelief. “We can survive here without you, you know.”            

“Good morning to you too, Suzie,” Y/N replied, not even looking up from the computer screen. “Stu asked me to come in early today; there’s a whole stack of referrals he doesn’t want to keep waiting, and Graeme is still on holidays. Besides, if I’d stayed at home longer I would’ve just baked something, and if that keeps happening I’m not going to fit into anything in my wardrobe when the weather finally warms up properly.”

Suzie rolled her eyes. “You and I both know that I end up eating most of your baking,” she shot back, and gave the rounded swell of her belly contained by a snug white top and framed by a cerulean blue cardigan a pat for emphasis, the broad smile spreading across her face indicating she had no problem with any extra pastry that may end up pushed her way. Y/N glanced over and smiled in return, shaking her head in amusement.

“I’ll see if I can bring you in something tomorrow. Right now though, I need to get changed. My first appointment is in fifteen minutes and it’s an ultrasound, so I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Fine,” Suzie huffed. “But you better not stay back late tonight. We’re going out for drinks again to see if I can pick-up someone for the night.” She waggled her eye brows as Y/N rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the computer screen, making a few more notes for herself as Suzie wandered back to reception. Once she was satisfied she made her way out of the office and to the staff changing area.

When she returned a few minutes later she donned loose navy blue scrubs over a white cotton long sleeve t-shirt and white sneakers. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a pony tail, but wisps had already escaped to frame her face. She drained the last of her enormous coffee, dropping the empty paper cup into the small bin under her desk, and strolled out to the reception waiting area.

There were already nearly a dozen people seated on the dark green plastic chairs lined around the edge of the room and in two rows in the middle, waiting to see various doctors and specialists. Y/N approached the front desk to get the paperwork for her first appointment from Nancy - a very round and almost irritatingly chipper woman in her mid-forties, with greying chestnut hair and a face that beamed at everyone. Y /N smiled warmly as she took the clipboard from her and flicked through the papers quickly.

“Mrs Fraser?” She called out and looked around the waiting room to see if anyone responded. No-one rose from their seats immediately. “Mrs Frazer,” she called again as her gaze travelled around the room, slower this time to see if she could pick out her patient.

Her searching paused on a man standing near the entrance of the clinic staring with furrowed brows at the huge range of pamphlets in the holder on the wall. He had dark hair and wore a tan trench coat over a black suit. She thought he looked familiar. As if he could feel her staring he turned his head to look at her, meeting her gaze with vivid blue eyes and she was hit with a sudden feeling of déjà vu. It took a moment for realisation to dawn – this was the guy from the bar, the one she’d seen across the room staring at her. He seemed just as shy now as he had last night, though not as embarrassed since she was the one caught staring this time. She didn’t want to stop either. Those blue eyes were mesmerizing and she wanted to catalogue every hue in them.

“Excuse me,” said someone to her left, startling her enough to make her jump slightly. She turned to see a woman standing next to her whom she assumed was Mrs Frazer from the hand resting on the top curve of the tiny woman’s maybe five to six months along pregnant belly. Y/N smiled at the woman out of habit.

“Mrs Frazer, if you’d like to follow me we’ll get started.” Y/N glanced back at the rack of pamphlets to give the man with the unforgettable blue eyes an apologetic smile, but he was gone. Her face dropped in slight disappointment, but she lead Mrs Frazer back to the ultrasound room and began prepping the tiny woman.

The rest of the morning and most of the early afternoon was blur of ultrasounds and x-rays, and Y/N became completely absorbed. She loved her job and it showed in the way she interacted with her patients. She always smiled warmly while sharing the first glimpse of babies in the womb with their teary mothers and fathers, gushing with them as she pointed out tiny hands and feet and faces on the black and white screen. She soothed worries and shame while pointing out and explaining bone breakages and fractures on the x-ray images stuck up on lightboxes, and cheered up children with promises of getting to choose the colour of their brightly coloured casts.

By the time Y/N had enough of a gap between patients to have a lunch break she was famished. It always amazed her how quickly the day could get away from her. A moment of pride flooded through her as she thought back on all the people she’d been able to help today alone and smiled. She fished her purse from the messenger bag, shrugged on a black, oversized, hooded cardigan and made her way out to the reception area to see if Suzie wanted to join her at the café next door.

When she got to the front desk she searched the waiting room for dark hair and blue eyes, just as she’d found herself doing every time she came to the front desk that day after her first appointment. She felt a little twinge of disappointment when she didn’t see either and let out a small sigh, chastising herself for obsessing over someone she hadn’t even spoken to.

A pang of guilt hit her then and she fingered the gold wedding band on her left hand. She wasn’t ready to move on yet, was she? Everyone else told her she should at least go on a date with someone, but it just never felt right to accept any of the invitations she received. Maybe that’s what she needed though.

Pushing those feelings down and plastering a smile on her face she turned to Nancy. “I’m heading out to get something to eat before I faint. Is Suzie around still?”

“She’s over at the café already. She only stepped out a couple of minutes ago,” the round receptionist replied. Nancy beamed at her as usual.

“Rude. I swear that girl has no manners,” Y/N stated playfully. “Thanks Nancy, I’ll be back before my next appointment.”

“Oh, take your time. Your three o’clock rescheduled for next week so treat yourself – you’ve been flat-chat all day.” Nancy’s cheerfulness was infectious and Y/N felt her small smile widen into a grin.

“Thanks Nancy,” she replied and then headed outside, purse in hand.

There was a chilly breeze that whipped the loose strands of hair around her face. It was still cloudy, rain threatening to fall later this evening and Y/N was grateful to think she would likely be home before that. Suzie wanted to go out for drinks again, but Y/N didn’t feel up to it. Baking and maybe curling up with a book for a while before bed sounded much more appealing.

Stepping through the door of the café Y/N was met with warmth and the aroma of coffee and cakes. Just a whiff of the glorious dark liquid had her craving a cup. The café was furnished with solid looking red and black plastic tables and chairs, several of which were occupied. A rack of newspapers near the door proclaimed they were free for customers.

Suzie was standing in front of the cake display case, chewing her lip slightly and obviously torn by decision. Y/N sidled up beside her and bumped her with her hip.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Y/N said sarcastically with a smirk.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t realise you were due for a break. I was actually here to get you a coffee and something to eat.” Suzie looked guilty and a little on edge as she looked up at her work colleague. Y/N was several inches taller than her even when Suzie was wearing heels. Y/N looked at her, brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay? You seem a bit frazzled. I didn’t think today had been that bad.”

“It wasn’t, and I’m okay. I just… I was going bring you something and tell you in your office, not here.” Suzie was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“Suzie, what’s wrong?” Y/N was beginning to worry. Suzie was always so together with everything usually, so even the small amount of nervousness rolling off her was putting Y/N on edge.

Suzie took a deep breath. “There’s been another murder, last night, at the bar. They found him in the men’s bathrooms. Y/N, the body they found was Phil.”

Y/N felt a lump forming in her throat and a cold feeling settle in her stomach, like a block of ice was forming. She stared at Suzie letting the words sink in, folding her arms slowly across her stomach, and then the cold feeling began to spread up to her chest.

“Was… was it the same as Jerry?”

“Yeah, it looks like it. God, I’m so sorry Y/N.”

Y/N knew Suzie was being apologetic because she’d told her last night she’d think about calling the guy, but Y/N hadn’t actually had any intention to do so. The missed opportunity wasn’t what had her feeling cold and queasy.

“I think I need to sit down,” said Y/N, making her way over to the nearest table. She sat almost in a daze while Suzie ordered them both coffee to go from the young blonde behind the counter. Once the order was placed Suzie joined her at the table.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped that on you. I just thought it would be better if you knew before the police came to question you again.”

Y/N felt overwhelmed. First Jerry, and now Phil, both murdered. Her anxiety was building rapidly as irrational thoughts began racing around her head. Why was this happening? Why were people dying after they'd spoken to her? Was she bad luck? Was she cursed? Was someone trying to frame her?

Trying to focus she looked away from Suzie out the front window of the café, intending to just look away from her friend long enough to settle her thoughts, but instead her eyes went wide and her breath hitched in fright at the impossible sight in the other side of the glass. There was a man standing outside looking in at her. Short, chocolate brown hair, grey-blue eyes behind gunmetal wireframe glasses and a strong, clean shaven jaw. To Y/N the face was unmistakable - she’d recognise that face in a sea of millions.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?” Suzie was tugging on the black sleeve of her cardigan. Y/N glanced at her and pointed to the window, willing her to look as well. But when she turned back to where the figure had been standing, it had vanished. Y/N slowly lowered her outstretched arm, curling it back to her chest.

“Tom…” she whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

“What?” Suzie asked, even more confused than before.

“I… Tom. I saw Tom,” replied Y/N, still staring outside. The cold queasy feeling in her gut rising again, stronger this time.  Suzie’s expression changed from confused to concerned.

“Y/N, Tom couldn’t be out there. You know that.” She said softly. She took Y/N’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

But Y/N was shoving herself up from the table. “I have to go,” she said, and before Suzie could react Y/N was out the door and racing back into the clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I should probably confess now that part of the reason this is a reader-insert fic is because I was having real trouble coming up with a character name when I first began typing this story out. I'm sorry to everyone that's used to reader-inserts where everything is "Y/H/C" and "Y/E/C" and "Y/S/C" and stuff, and I'm doubley sorry if the way I've written this makes it hard to get invested the same way you might usually with a reader insert fic. Please forgive me.
> 
> Confessions aside, I felt this chapter was needed for the story. This one was actually really hard to get out, and I can't even explain why. I deleted and rewrote chunks of it so many times to make it flow right that I almost scrapped it altogether, but I think it works now. 
> 
> I hope you like how it's all panning out so far and, as always, I'd love to get feedback. Also feel free to point out and grammar/spelling mistakes because while I'm awesome at editing other peoples' work I seem to be pretty bad at checking my own.
> 
> EDIT: Just want to send out a huge thank you to those that have commented so far because you really have helped motivate and inspire me to keep this rolling. Much love to you all. <3 <3 <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very, very sorry to have kept you all waiting so long for this chapter. I hope you like it, and I'm sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes I missed in the brief edit.
> 
> NOTE: Parts re-written 20/03/2016

Sam and Dean stepped through the swinging glass doors and welcomed the cosy warmth of the clinic. While their suits were necessary for playing the part of federal agents they did little to keep the chilly breeze at bay, and neither of them had thought to bring overcoats. Glancing around they noted only three of the waiting area seats were in use, and each of the occupants were engrossed in outdated issues if Cosmopolitan and Women’s Health.

Reaching the front desk they were greeted by Nancy’s round, beaming face; all red cheeks and wide smiles. “What can I help you fine gentlemen with this afternoon?” Nancy asked, her chipper mood still present and showing no signs of fading.

“We’re hoping to see Ms L/N. Is she available right now?”

“I’m afraid you’ve just missed her. She’s popped out for a bite to eat, the dear. Not to fret though, gents, she’ll be back soon. And it’s your lucky day because she has a vacant slot at three thirty this afternoon. Now which one of you needed to see her? And is it for an x-ray or ultrasound today?” She looked between the two men before her expectantly, smile unwavering.

“Uh, we’re actually here for a different matter,” Dean responded, flashing his FBI badge for Nancy to see briefly before slipping it back into his suit jacket pocket. Her smile wavered as she uttered a silent oh.

“Is everything alright? She isn’t in any sort of trouble is she? Y/N is just the sweetest thing and she’s had such a tough time since she found Jerry, God rest his soul.” Concern was suddenly pouring off the woman, eyes wide with worry. Sam raised his hands, palms out in a placating gesture.

“We simply need to ask her some routine questions to assist with an investigation,” he assured her. She calmed immediately.

“That’s a relief. I’ve no doubt she’ll be more than happy to assist you, agents. She really is just the loveliest little thing, you know. Would you like to take a seat and wait for her? I’m sure she’ll be back before you know it.” 

“I think we will. Thank you very much, ma’am.” Sam replied. Nancy beamed at them once more before turning back to her computer screen. 

Sam took a vacant seat in the far corner while Dean doubled back to peer at the rack near the front door. The brightly coloured pamphlets ranged from information on heart disease and diabetes to the risks of smoking and alcoholism. Curiosity getting the better of him he picked one up on STIs and flipped it open, smirking to himself. The smirk slowly melted away as he read more of the pamphlet, soon replaced by a look of uneasiness. His face paled when came upon the various kinds of infections that were out there and some of the common symptoms. He unconsciously adjusted himself in his suit pants.

Deciding it was all a little too graphic he hastily he stuffed it back in the rack and smoothed down his red tie in an effort to recompose himself. To Dean’s horror when he turned back to the front desk Nancy was looking at him with an unnerving mixture of cheerfulness and sympathetic understanding. He hurried over to where Sam was sitting biting back a smirk of his own, and took the vacant seat next to him. 

“Encounter another truck stop waitress with a weird rash?” Sam queried without looking up from the health magazine he was flicking through. Dean shot him a scolding glare.

“One time. And I was fine,” Dean grumbled. Sam chuckled to himself and leaned back in his seat. Dean, trying to ignore his brother’s smugness, fished out his phone and checked to see if Castiel had responded to any of his messages yet. Nothing - the angel had been radio silent since the night before after leaving only a single voice message to report his findings from the morgue well after Dean had passed out. He sighed and pocketed his phone again.

“So, you think she carries around a lock of his hair?” Sam chimed in, bringing the focus back to the case at hand. 

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“Y/N. Do you think she carries around a lock of her husband’s hair? She has to be carrying the thing he’s anchored to for him to always seem to show up whenever someone appears to be making an advance on her. How else could he have been in the alley for one murder and then the bar bathrooms the next? You know ghosts can’t usually leave the place they haunt.” Dean realised Sam had a very good point, one he should have thought of himself already.

“He might have been possessing someone,” Dean suggested.

“No, I don’t think so. We saw the bar footage earlier and there wasn’t anyone else that had gone into the bathroom either before or after Mr Compton except the guy that found him, and he was only in there for a few seconds before he came barrelling back out,” Sam recounted. Clearly Dean hadn’t been paying as much attention as he should have. He groaned.

Both men were brought out of their thoughts as the big glass door was flung open and Y/N came stumbling through.

“You’re back early!” Nancy exclaimed, smiling wide as ever. The smile faltered when she looked at Y/N’s face. “Is everything okay, dear?”

“Nancy, I don’t think I can see my last couple of patients today. Can you please call them to reschedule and apologize?” Y/N’s voice was unsteady and her hands were shaking. 

“Of course.” Nancy replied, her face full of concern and compassion, then leaned in and lowered her voice. “Do you want me to send the agents away?” Nancy queried cautiously.

“Agents?” Y/N asked, confused. Her eyes darted around the waiting area until they landed on Sam and Dean. She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a slow huff that seemed to calm her slightly. “No, don’t send them away. I’ll see them on my office now. Thank you, Nancy. Agents?” She motioned for them to follow her and turned down the hall that lead to her office walking briskly.

Sam and Dean followed her down the halls and into her spacious office. Once they were all inside Y/N closed and locked the door and then turned to the two men looking frazzled and distraught. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then swallowed. 

“I was actually going to call you,” Y/N said, looking at the boys and fidgeting with her wedding band, hands still shaking. “You said to call if there was anything weird.” 

“Has something happened?” queried Sam, silently hoping she hadn’t found another victim.

“I… This is going to sound crazy. _I_ think I’m going crazy.” Y/N began pacing back and forth across the grey linoleum, releasing her dark hair from its ponytail and running her hands through the loosened strands.

“We won’t think you’re crazy, sweetheart. Just let us know what’s got you so wound up.” Dean didn’t care that he was dropping the professional act. Y/N had obviously been shaken up by something and he wanted to help if he could.

“I think I’m the reason people are being killed,” Y/N blurted out. “The night Jerry died he asked me out on a date. I-I knew he like me, and had for a while, but I didn’t feel the same way about him and I wasn’t over Tom. So I turned him down and sent him home a bit early. But I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen to the guy.” She pulled the long, black sleeves of her cardigan over her hands and folded her arms tight across her chest as she continued to pace. 

“When I found his body later that night I felt so horrible I’d said no. Now Phil is dead too. He tried to ask me out last night and I turned him down too. I mean Phil was a bit of a creeper but he didn’t deserve to die. They’re both dead after they asked me out and…” Y/N stopped and took another deep breath to steady herself after babbling. “I know you’re both FBI Agents and you deal with weird stuff but… do you believe in ghosts?” She chewed her bottom lip nervously turning it red while looking between the two men.

“Why would you ask us if we believe in ghosts?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Because…” Y/N started, looking down at her feet and fidgeting with her wedding band once again. “I saw my husband Tom,” she said quietly, missing the startled look the two brothers exchanged. “He died a year ago in a plane crash on his way home for our wedding anniversary. But I know I saw him standing outside the café before when I was talking to Suzie. And I saw him the night Jerry died too. Remember I told you I thought I saw a figure in the dark? I thought it was Tom, but at the time thought I was being silly. Now though? I don’t know what to believe. ” Y/N leaned against her desk, gripping the edge with both hands as if to ground herself.

“You’re not crazy,” Sam told her. He looked over at Dean for confirmation before continuing. “We believe you.” Y/N looked up at Sam surprised.

“What?” Y/N asked, completely taken off guard. 

“Ghosts are real, and your husband has been killing people that are hitting on you to keep them away from you. We’re here to stop him.” Dean said bluntly. 

“What?” Y/N asked again. Sam shot Dean an unimpressed look, clearly not approving of the way he’d revealed that supernatural beings were not all myth and legend. 

“Like Dean said, ghosts are real and, strange as it may seem, we’re actually here to stop any more people from getting hurt,” Sam said, brow raised and crinkled in concern and his green-hazel eyes almost puppy dog like. “Y/N, I need you to think carefully. Is there anything of Tom’s that you keep with you all the time? Anything.” 

“My husband is now a ghost haunting me and killing people that want to get into my pants.” Y/N said, taking big breath to calm herself. 

“A lock of hair? An item of his that he was attached to? He’s haunting something and it has to be something you carry - he wouldn’t be able to appear in so many different places without it,” Dean added.

“My husband’s ghost is jealously killing innocent guys.” She was turning the idea over in her mind trying to process it. 

“Please, Y/N. We need to you focus,” Sam urged.

“This is not what I expected when I decided to tell you guys about this. I thought you’d just tell me I was being crazy and was probably under too much stress and needed a few days off work, not that ghosts are actually real. Thought really, I does make a weird sort of sense. I’m babbling again, aren’t I? I’m sorry.” Both Sam and Dean could see the idea was beginning to settle in for Y/N and they hoped she wasn’t about to completely freak out on them.

“Whatever part of Tom you’re keeping with you is allowing him to stay anchored here instead of letting him move on. We need to find it before he hurts anyone else. Please, you can help stop this,” Sam tried again. 

“I don’t have anything of his. I didn’t keep any hair or anything – he was cremated, even his wedding ring. And I gave all his clothes to good will. I didn’t keep anything because I knew it would hurt too much. Having photos out was even too painful when he died.” The pain in her voice was heartbreaking and Dean felt like an ass for needing to bring it up, but this was all they had and he feared their time was running out. If Y/N had seen the ghost already he might be readying for another attack. 

“There must be something. Think carefully. Is there anything of yours he was attached to? Maybe something special he gave you?” Sam knew they had just dropped a bomb on the poor woman and wished they could give her more time to process, but they had a ghost to hunt, and they could all be in danger right now. 

Almost as if on cue the temperature in the office dropped, and all three of them had their breath coming out in soft, white puffs of mist. Dean immediately tried to open the office door by the lock was stuck and wouldn’t budge.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “The door’s not budging.” Sam tried the door next, and Y/N tried the other door that led to the x-ray area. Neither would open. Both men were all too aware of how ill-prepared they had come – all their weapons and supplies were locked safely in the boot of the Impala parked outside across the road. They had a pistol each which was useless against ghosts. The exchanged a knowing look while Y/N began to shiver in the artificial cold.

“I don’t suppose you keep any salt in here?” Dean asked Y/N hopefully. 

“Salt? Why would you need salt when we’re trapped in my office?” She looked at Dean like he was mad.

“Never mind, I’ll explain later. We’re going to need to open that door and get you somewhere safe before-” Dean was cut-off as he was flung into the air by an invisible force. “Sammy!” he yelled as he was hurtled against the shelves on the far wall. He hit them with a sickening crack and crumpled to the floor. Instinctively Sam moved in front of Y/N.

“Dean! Dean, are you okay?” Before Sam could get an answer he too was suddenly in the air and crashing against the opposite wall. He fell in a heap on the floor and slowly rolled over clutching at his arm, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Y/N began to make her way over to Dean who seemed unconscious when her path was suddenly blocked by a figure flickering into focus before her. Grey-blue eyes met hers and a mixture of joy and pain overtook her, wrapping around her chest to squeeze out a sob.

"Tom?" she asked, inching forward with a hand out stretched tentatively. "Tom, is it really you?" A bubble of hope began to form in her belly as thoughts of being able to speak to her husband again raced through her mind. That bubble was quickly burst when she felt herself take in a full-body, vice-like hold and slammed against the door.

Tom glared at her angrily from behind gunmetal frames, lips curled back in a snarl. A scream caught in her throat, only a tiny choked squeak escaping. In all the time she’d known her husband she’d never seen him so full of anger and hatred, let alone had such a poisonous look directed at her from him. This wasn’t the man she remembered and loved - this was someone else, and it broke her heart all over again to see.

“Tom…” Y/N whispered, tears beginning to well at the rims of her eyes, ready to spill over any moment. Frightened she tried to wriggle free of the invisible hold from the thing that wasn’t her husband anymore, eyes darting between the two crumpled figures on either side of the room that hadn’t yet moved. The realization that this was very real and she and these two men might die in this office was all she could think about as the ghost took a jarring step toward her.

The sound of fluttering fabric and wings filled the air and Y/N’s vision was abruptly filled with tan fabric. Glancing up she saw dark, messy, windswept hair. She stumbled as she felt herself released from suddenly and pressed herself against the door of the office, panic finally beginning to settle in her chest as her brain caught up with current events. She could now see both the ghost of her husband and the newly arrived man in the tan trench coat and her mind went into overdrive when she recognized him – the man from the waiting room this morning. 

Tom roared in anger and lunged at Castiel, but before the enraged ghost could reach him he raised his hand and the ghost vanished, flickering out like a television screen being turned off. The trench coat clad man then turned and stared at Y/N with those intense blue eyes – the same vivid blue eyes she’d been thinking about all day. She blinked back tears that were still threatening to fall and was startled to find those blue eyes now inches away, looming over her. 

“Your ring, give it to me,” Castiel said, his voice gravelly and commanding. Y/N stared wide eyed.

“Are… are you a ghost too?” Y/N asked, her mind reeling and adrenaline racing through her veins.

“No, I’m an angel of the Lord,” Castiel replied sombrely. “Your husband’s ghost is tethered to your ring. I was only able to send him away for a short time - he'll be back soon. You will not be safe until it’s destroyed.” The seriousness of his words coupled with the warm gravelly tone of his voice and the obvious concern that filled his eyes as he stared back into hers calmed Y/N a little.

“Angel of the Lord, huh? Well this day just keeps getting weirder.” She knew her voice was shaky but she honestly didn’t know how else to respond to someone claiming to be an angel, especially now she knew ghosts were real. Angel’s weren’t that much weirder, right? She held up her left hand and stared at the gold band on her ring finger. “This is all I have left of him,” she said quietly, almost a whisper. 

“Y/N, please. We’re running out of time.” He was still staring at her, unblinking blue eyes locked on hers and this time as she stared back she could have sworn she felt something in the air shift, like static electricity building up. It made the hair stand up on the back of her neck, though not unpleasantly. It made her feel oddly safe. 

Reluctantly she slipped the ring from her finger, looking at it one last time as if trying to memorize every last detail, then placed it in Castiel’s waiting hand. Only then did he look away from Y/N’s face, glancing at the gold band sitting on his palm for a moment before it burst into flame. Y/N gasped and pressed herself hard against the door unable to take her eyes of the hot yellow and white flames that were dancing in the hand of the man in front of her. She could feel the heat of it warming her cold nose and cheeks. Then almost as suddenly as the flames had erupted they and the ring were gone, the angel’s hand left unmarked. Y/N, not realising she’d been holding her breath released it in a shuddering sigh. 

“Is it over? Is he really gone?” she asked. She gazed up into those impossibly blue eyes, her own hazel eyes brimming once again with tears. 

“Yes,” Castiel replied, sympathy laced through his honey and gravel tone. Y/N nodded, relief washing over her face as she let her tears fall silently down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a stint of writers block, a funeral, a bout of the flu and work and study eating up far more of my time than they have an right to, I finally got this chapter written! It ended up a bit longer than I had planned and I actually had to cut it off and move some of it to the next chapter. I hope you like the little bit of (attempted) comedy Dean I threw in since you were all loving the way this was reading like an episode of the show.
> 
> I skimmed through this briefly in an attempt to edit before posting but didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer. It's probably rife with mistakes so please feel free to point any out that you find. 
> 
> The good news is a hefty chunk of the next chapter is already written and I'm pretty happy with how it's going. Fingers crossed I can continue with the momentum as I'm getting pretty close to the scene that spurred this whole piece into existance.
> 
> As always I'd love to here what you think of this chapter and the story so far, so please comment as it gives me the warm and fuzzies everytime one of you does. And if you're enjoying this story please leave kudos. Thank you again for your patience and I hope you enjoy. <3


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel watched as tears slowly trickled down Y/N’s cheeks. She looked fragile and he could sense the pain she was feeling. He wanted to comfort her – wrap himself around her and protect her from it, make her feel safe and whole and happy again. But he didn’t think that would be appropriate so he just stood gazing at her instead as her fingers ran slow circles over the base of her now bare left ring finger.

She glanced up, blinking back more tears in an effort to stop their flow and taking in a deep, shuddering breath. When she released it a little of the tension in her body slipped away, but adrenaline was making her feel a jittery. The need to go for a run to calm her nerves began to itch at her and if it weren’t for the fact there were two injured men crumpled up on the floor of her office she would have done just that.

“Cas,” wheezed Dean, slowly trying to pick himself up while clutching his ribs gingerly. “Where the hell have you been?” Sam was also sitting up and carefully checking himself over.

“Cas?” Y/N asked Dean, gesturing to the dark hair man that was still staring at her unblinking. As soon as it was out she felt stupid for asking.

“Yeah, he’s with us. Don’t worry, he’s one of the good guys,” Sam assured her, wincing as he stood holding his left arm. “Hey, I don’t suppose you know how to put a dislocated arm back?” he asked hopefully, his face betraying the pain he was in. That flicked a switch in Y/N’s brain and sent her into medical carer mode. She darted to Sam’s side and reached up to gently check his shoulder.

“I’ll need you to sit. You’re too tall for me to do this with you standing.” She guided him to the green bucket chair, shoving her bag to the floor and taking hold of his dislocated arm to support it as he lowered himself down. She lined the limb up then looked him directly in the eyes. “You probably know this already, but this will hurt. I’m going to count to three, okay?” Sam nodded, lips pressed tightly together in a thin line “Okay. One…” She swiftly popped his arm back into the shoulder socket with a soft pop and crunch. Sam yelped in pain collapsing back against the chair.

“That never gets any easier,” he groaned, flexing his left hand slowly to make sure it was still working. “I need a drink.”

“I’ll get you something for the pain in a minute, but I need to check your partner.” Y/N turned to Dean who was now sitting upright but still clutching his side. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his breathing was laboured, his face pinched in agony.

“You,” she pointed at Castiel, “I need your help to get him upright and into my x-ray room. Pretty sure he’s cracked his ribs and I need to see the damage.” Castiel was on the other side of Dean and helping him up in an instant. They slowly guided him to the x-ray room and helped him out of his jacket, tie and shirt before assisting him against the x-ray plate. Y/N moved the equipment into position quickly.

“Hold still. I’ll come back out in a moment to move you around.” She gave Dean’s hand a comforting squeeze, smiling to put him at ease as best she could before pulling Castiel with her into the equipment operating room. When Y/N was satisfied she had enough x-rays from enough different angles to give Dean a diagnoses she disappeared in search of pain medication for the injured men she now considered in her charge. A few minutes later she returned bearing Vicodin, a sling and a bottle of water.

While Sam and Dean dosed up and waited for the drugs to kick in Castiel followed Y/N and found her placing Dean’s x-rays up on light boxes and examining them slowly with a bewildered look on her face. Every image showed Dean’s ribs were covered in carved symbols. She stared gobsmacked, like she thought she might be hallucinating what she was seeing.

“Impossible,” she mumbled to herself, not realising Castiel was standing less than a foot behind her now. “What could have done this?” she muttered peering at them again.

“I did,” Castiel answered softly. Y/N jumped back startled, colliding with his chest and stumbling as she emitted a squeak of surprise. Castiel brought his arm around her torso to stop her fall, pulling her in close against his chest, and her fingers instinctively gripped onto the sleeve of his trench coat as she tried to right herself. When she realised she was being held, firmly pressed up against a warm body, she turned her head back over her shoulder and found pink lips and piercing blue eyes mere inches away.

“I apologise, I did not mean to startle you,” Castiel rumbled quietly, his breath brushing Y/N’s lips and cheek. The mixture of his warm breath and deep, gravelly voice so close made her brain stutter and her breath hitch. All she could do for several seconds was flick her gaze between the angel’s blue, blue eyes and his slightly parted, full lips. When she finally took in the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding a slight tingle ran low through her belly.

“You?” she blurted out when her brain caught up and she remembered the x-rays. She moved away from Castiel with a jolt. He let his arm fall to his side again but didn’t shift his gaze from her.

“Yes. They’re Enochian. For protection.” Castiel continued to stare at her, almost as if doing so would make her comprehend.

“That’s…” Y/N was lost for words. She glanced at the images, then back to Castiel. “Wow. This is probably going to sound a bit weird but… that’s actually kind of awesome.” She looked at the images again. “I can’t easily see if there are any fractures though.”

“There are none. I checked,” he replied matter-of-factly. Y/N just blinked while she processed this new information.

“You can check for broken bones. Wait, what am I saying? Of course you can – you’re an angel.” She said it almost like she was berating herself for not realising sooner.

“Just a shame he can’t heal them,” Dean said as he and Sam shuffled into the examination room.

“What about you two?” she huffed. “I suppose you’re going to tell me the FBI works with yeti’s as well as angels.” The two men looked at each other awkwardly and another piece of the puzzle that the day had become fell into place in Y/N’s mind. “You’re not FBI agents, are you?”

“Uh, no. No, we’re not,” Sam replied, a little sheepish. “Our names aren’t Bonham and Copeland either. I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We’re hunters.”

“Hunters,” Y/N echoed. She looked at them all one by one, her eyes narrowed as she turned everything over in her brain.

“We’re sorry,” Dean said. “Look, we’ll get out of your hair and leave you be.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Y/N said quickly. “You’re both injured and hopped up on Vicodin. You’re coming back to mine to stay the night and you’re going to tell me everything.”

* * *

 

Y/N lay awake sprawled out under her heavy, deep blue doona as everything she’d learned that evening ran through her head. Sam and Dean had been reluctant to accept Y/N’s invitation, insisting they had a perfectly good motel room to spend the night in. However, the promise of a homemade meal and soft, warm beds had eventually won out and Y/N had been quietly thankful – the idea of spending the night alone in her large, empty house now she knew ghosts were real did not appeal.

Over homemade chilli and cornbread followed by cherry pie, Y/N had coaxed Sam and Dean into telling her more about the world of supernatural monsters. While the stories they shared were frightening, disturbing, or downright heartbreaking, Y/N found herself warming up to the two brothers quickly. The fact they had dedicated their lives to protecting innocent people from the horrors most of them didn’t even know existed made her admire them. The idea of ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, shapeshifters, and all manner of other not-so-mythical creatures being real was something she was still trying to wrap her head around.

Castiel had disappeared shortly after all of them had arrived at Y/N’s home, barely announcing his departure. Y/N had been a little disappointed as she would have liked to have tried to get to know him better as well, but the easy flowing conversation over food and beers with the Winchesters had kept her entertained. It had been a long time since she’d entertained anyone at home, and the brothers were gracious guests

Now though, with both men asleep in the guest rooms, Y/N’s thoughts kept straying back to the Castiel. The fact that an angel - an actual ‘angel of the Lord’ - had saved her was finally hitting her like a ton of bricks. She thought back to the encounter - how he had made the air crackle and buzz with power, how the flames had danced harmlessly across his palm while they consumed her ring, and how his mesmerising blue eyes seemed to stare straight into her soul.

Her thoughts began to stray to their very close encounter in the examination room. The firmness of his body as her own was pressed, no, held against him. The rumble she felt through her body when he spoke in that low, roughened voice that was far more soothing than it had any right to be. The warmth of his breath brushing across her lips and skin, and the enticingly charged smell of him - all petrichor and electrical buzz and fire and wind, with a faint hint of something else she couldn’t put her finger on. In short he smelled like a dangerous thunder storm ravaging the skies.

Restless and unable to get those thoughts out of her mind Y/N flicked back the covers. She wrapped herself up in a long, fluffy dressing gown, toed on her slippers and quietly padded downstairs. After puttering around the kitchen she stepped out onto the back porch and curled up on the swing seat, cradling a mug of hot chocolate and looked out over the shadowy back garden. There was almost no moon and being close to the centre of town meant the stars weren’t very bright. But even now knowing monsters lurked everywhere, looking out over her garden soothed her nerves and helped clear her head. So much so that when she heard the ruffling of feathers and felt the swing seat shift with the weight of another person she barely startled.

“That’s a little weird, you know, just showing up randomly unannounced.” Her tone was soft and a light smile played across her lips, but Castiel didn’t immediately pick up in it.

“I apologise. I do not seem to be very good at putting you at ease.” He sounded slightly disappointed at himself and Y/N turned her head to look at him.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m… just not used to…” She waved her free hand in a wide gesture, “…this yet.”

Castiel slowly cocked his head to the side and squinted slightly as he looked at her, not entirely comprehending what she meant.

“You know – ghost, demons, vampires… Angels.” She gave him a small, nervous smile, the realization that something very old and very powerful was sitting inches from her, sharing the swing seat with her.

“I understand learning the existence of ancient and supernatural beings can be overwhelming and frightening for humans,” Castiel said, looking out over the garden. “I assure you that you are safe. I will not allow any harm to come to you.”

“Thank you,” Y\N responded, a soft warmth blossoming in her chest at his words. They sat in content silence for a short time before a thought occurred to Y/N. “Perhaps you can help me wrap my head around all of this.”

“How might I assist?” Castiel was looking at her again, mild curiosity painting his face.

“What is it like being an angel?” Y/N asked.

“Oh.” Castiel seemed surprised by the question. “That…” He paused, tilting his head down slightly as he mulled it over. “Is difficult to explain. For starters it depends on my form.”

“Your form?” Y/N frowned.

“Yes, my form. At present I am in a human form, a privilege afforded to me by a man of faith that was willing to let me take his body as my vessel.”

“Vessel? Wait, you mean you stole someone’s body?” Y/N looked momentarily horrified at the thought. Castiel looked almost amused.

“No, he gave it of his own free will. Unlike demons, angels need permission to take a human vessel.”

“Right. Okay. That makes sense, I guess.” Y/N thought on this new piece of information. “Wait, so is he ‘in there’ with you? Am I talking to two people right now?”

“Yes, Jimmy is in here with me, though he is unconscious and not partaking in our dialogue. I think it is easier for him that way.” A look of remorse crossed Castiel’s face momentarily. He knew Jimmy had given up much and he wondered now if it had been worth it. Y/N noticed the change in his mood and decided to veer the conversation elsewhere.

“What about your other forms?”

“If I am not in human form I am generally in my true form,” Castiel replied.

“True form?” asked Y/N curiously. “What’s that like?”

“It’s difficult to explain in human terms.”

“Try me,” Y/N challenged.

“My true form is a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent beyond the capabilities of humans to perceive without being consumed by it,” Castiel explained. Y/N blinked and then giggled.

“You’re right, I don’t understand what that means. It sounds pretty spectacular though.” Y/N was finding Castiel’s company and conversation entertaining. Who knew it would be so easy to talk to an angel? “What does it feel like in your true form?”

Castiel had to stop and think about that. Feelings were very new to him, an unexpected side effect of the closeness he had rapidly developed with the Winchesters, Dean especially. He was still attempting to identify them as they emerged within him, but as he thought there was only one word that fit his true form.

“It feels holy,” he explained, searching Y/N’s eyes for comprehension. She smiled at him.

“That must feel wonderful.” She looked back out over the garden, trying to imagine what that might feel like for her, but eventually conceded it was probably out of her grasp. It did make her think of Tom though, and sadness washed over her at the memory of him standing in front of her ready to lash out.

“Is… Is Tom at peace now? Like, really at peace?”

“Yes, he is. And he cannot harm you or anyone else anymore.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She expected to have ended up breaking down into a blubbering mess of tears and wails at being reminded again of her dead husband after actually seeing him that day. Instead she felt a sense of peace herself that hadn’t been there before. Thinking of him still made her sad, but her grief had ebbed away. It was good and comforting and welcome. She yawned wide at that thought, stretching her arms high above her head.

“You should sleep, Y/N,” he told her gently. She nodded and stood, motioning for Castiel to follow.

“Sam and Dean have the guest rooms, but I can make something up on the couch for you.”

“I do not require sleep. But I appreciate the thought.” He

“Right, of course. Well, you can… hang out here,” she said, only slightly awkwardly. “That is if you’d like to. You’re welcome in my home.”

The smallest hint of a smile graced Castiel’s face. “I will stay. I said I would keep you safe,” he said.

Y/N smiled back, that warmth from before returning to her chest, then went to place her empty mug in the sink and turn off the kitchen light. When she came back Castiel was looking thoughtful. He turned his attention back to her, locking her in his blue gaze and stepping in close. She looked up at him and was immediately aware of that stormy scent radiating from him. She looked up meaning to meet his stare but was distracted by his slightly parted lips instead.

“Thank you,” he said to her, full of sincerity. She swallowed, her mouth having gone dry.

“What for?” she queried, lifting her gaze to his.

“For our talk. I… enjoyed it very much.” He searched her eyes for a reaction. Something about the way he said that made Y/N feel he did not get the opportunity to just sit and talk casually very often, and it made her want to wrap him up in a hug. She wasn't sure if that would be overstepping a boundary though, so instead she smiled at him warmly.

“I enjoyed talking to you too,” she said. “You can come and talk to me any time you want. About anything.”

This time Castiel smiled properly looking at Y/N with a fondness that made her stomach flutter. “I would like that, very much,” he said. The warmth in Y/N’s chest grew and she couldn’t help but smile just a little wider.

“Well, good night,” she said, stepping back reluctantly before turning to head back up the stairs.

“Good night, Y/N,” Castiel replied. “Safe and pleasant dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter wrote much easier than the last two and ended up a bit long. Not that it's a bad thing, but I was kind of surprised.
> 
> As always comments are very much appreciated. I'm curious to know what people think of the interactions between Cas and Reader for this one.
> 
> EDIT: Would also love to hear if there is anything in particular you love about the story and/or characters and how I'm depicting them. I'm writing this thing as much for all of you now as I am for me after all, so tell me what you like.
> 
> Much loves to you all. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it will probably stop feeling like an episode of the show. Sorry to those that were enjoying it, but I couldn't really maintain it and carry the story forward at the pace I felt it needed.
> 
> EDITED - 29th March 2016

Sam shifted under the doona, waking slowly with a large, wide yawn. He went to stretch but winced when pain quickly reminded him of his still tender shoulder. Luckily it was still in the immobilizing sling Y/N had insisted she fit him with the night before.

Blearily he peered around the cosy room of white walls and white furniture remembering the day before. He felt safe and content snuggled up as he was in the large bed, and was feeling especially grateful that Y/N had insisted he and his brother come back to stay with her for the night. It wasn’t often they received such gratitude for the work they did, and Y/N had turned out to be fun to hang out with. A dopey smile spread across his face as he let himself sink back into the softness of the mattress and pillows, still cocooned under the green striped doona. He and Dean didn’t have anywhere urgent to be today, so five more minutes would be fine.

Cravings for coffee soon had Sam emerging from the cosy little room and out to the hall. He could faintly hear music from downstairs meaning Y/N at least was probably already up. He cracked open the door to the room Dean had taken for the night and saw he was still asleep, propped up on a mountain of pillows and drooling ever so slightly from one corner of his mouth. Sam chuckled at the sight before quietly closing the door again and shuffling downstairs.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs he recognised the song playing was 99 Luftballoons by Nena and it was coming from the kitchen along with the delicious scent of coffee and bacon. Rounding the corner he found Y/N over the stove, swaying her hips and humming along to the song as she tended to a large frying pan full of bacon. She wore her red and white checked apron and had the enormous sleeves of her oversized charcoal sweater pushed up above her elbows. Sam couldn’t help but smile at how domestic and normal it felt. He let out another yawn, stretching his good arm above his wild bed-head hair.

Y/N turned and smiled warmly at him and motioned for him to sit on the wooden stool at the breakfast bar, just as she had the first time she’d let him into her home only a couple of days before. She looked wide awake and fresh faced in the morning light shining in through the large kitchen windows. She turned down the music and set a mug in front of him, filling it with fresh coffee. Sam closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma.

“Did you sleep well?” Y/N asked as she set cream and sugar next to Sam’s mug. He took a tentative sip from his cup before adding a spoon of sugar and stirring it lazily.

“I actually did. I don’t know if it was that bed or the great food you made last night, but that was the best sleep I’ve had in a long while.” Sam took another sip of his coffee and wiggled the fingers of his strapped up arm.

“I’m glad,” Y/N replied, taking a sip of her own coffee as she turned over the bacon.

“How about you? Sleep okay?”

“Not at first. I mean, yesterday kind of turned the world upside down for me. Not that it’s a bad thing – I think I’d rather know all this crazy stuff is out there. But I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all, you know? Talking with Castiel helped though.”

“Castiel? He came back last night?” Sam asked, surprised.

“Yeah, a while after you and Dean went to bed. He stayed the night as well, or said he would. He was gone again by the time I got up.” A new song started on the radio – Mr. E’s Beautiful Blue by The Eels.

“Huh,” was all Sam could reply with. He continued to watch Y/N, sipping his coffee, as she took the bacon out of the pan and laid it out on a tray covered in paper towel and began to brake eggs into the pan to fry.

“You know you don’t need to do all this for us,” Sam remarked.

“Well I want to. From what you both told me last night you don’t get the recognition you deserve, and patching you up, feeding you and giving you somewhere warm and safe to sleep for a few nights is the least I can do.”

“A few nights?”

“Yes, a few nights. Or more if you need it.”

“We can’t stay here that long,” Sam insisted looking guilty.

“You mentioned you don’t have another hunt lined up yet,” Y/N said as she began getting plates from the cupboards. “I certainly have enough room here for you both, and before you start to argue with me I won’t take no for an answer. And in the meantime, you can teach me what I need to know to monster proof my home. Now why don’t you go see if Dean is awake while I finish up all this?”

“No need,” Dean said sleepily as he rounded the corner to the kitchen. “Is that pancakes and bacon I can smell?” Y/N grinned at him and opened the oven to retrieve a large plate stacked high with golden brown pancakes.

Dean grinned back. “Awesome."

 

* * *

 

**_Three months later…_ **

 

“Dean! Finally. I was beginning to think you were ignoring me.” Y/N held her cell phone pinned between her shoulder and her ear while she held a huge mixing bowl in one hand and stirred muffin batter with the other.

“I could never ignore you, sweetheart. What’s shakin’?” Dean’s tone was warm and affectionate.

“Are you and your brother working a case at the moment?” Y/N asked.

“Just finished one. Why? You miss our pretty faces?” replied Dean.

“I always miss your faces, but I was calling because I just got off the phone with my cousin.” Y/N set the bowl down and added some vanilla before resuming mixing. “He lives in Fairmount, Minnesota and says he’d just fled town because things have been getting really weird down there. People going crazy and doing weird stuff, and some kind of militia has formed in the next town over trying to keep the peace. I had a bit of a look and there’s all kinds of demon omen around the area. Thought it sounded like your kind of gig.”

Dean paused for a moment while he took all the info in. “Since when did you start recognising omens and calling us in for jobs?” He was quietly impressed, but the idea that Y/N was keeping tabs on this sort of thing had him feeling uncomfortable. He knew how easy it was to go from researching things to hunting them.

“Since I met you two knuckleheads. Don’t worry, I don’t have any notions to run out there and start hunting this sort of stuff, that’s why I’m calling you. And I don’t really go looking for it generally either. But there has been some weird stuff on the news the last few weeks, and when Greg called I couldn’t help but look into it.”

“We’re actually not too far from there so we’ll head over to look into it now. We should be there by nightfall,” Sam said.

“Stay safe, okay?” Y/N requested, knowing full well they would probably get themselves into more trouble than was necessary.

“We always do. Kind of,” Sam replied.

“And come visit me when you’re done. I really do miss your faces, and nobody appreciates my pie the way you do, Dean.”

“Promise we’ll come see you, sweetheart. Wouldn’t miss your pie for the end of the world. You stay safe too.”

The call ended and Y/N put the mixing bowl down long enough to hang up properly and place the cell phone on the bench before resuming her mixing. Before long two trays of large blueberry muffins were in the oven and Y/N was washing the stray flour and batter from her hands and arms.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later Y/N was beginning to worry. She’d tried calling both Sam and Dean and all her calls had gone straight to voicemail and neither had returned her calls. She tried to reason that they were probably just busy with the hunt and had turned their phones off to minimise distractions, but an uneasy feeling had settled in her stomach and she couldn’t shake it. If anything had happened to them it was because she’d sent them in.

While she towel dried her hair in her bedroom, half dressed in black three quarter length leggings and a black bra, she let her mind wander to Castiel. On the few occasions he’d visited since their conversation on her back porch that first night he’d always seemed a little distracted. He spoke of missions and danger, and from what she had gleaned from him the angel seemed to be on the run from heaven. She hoped his silence the last few weeks wasn’t because he’d run into real trouble. “ _Please be safe, Castiel, and make sure the boys are safe too_ ” she thought to herself as she dropped the towel in the hamper and reached for the purple floral skater dress draped across the back of her dressing chair.

All at once there was the sound of fluttering wings and fabric and Castiel was standing several feet in front of her. He was swaying unsteadily on his feet and looked even more dishevelled than usual, his blue tie hanging loose around his neck and several buttons on his white shirt undone. His trench coat was beginning to slip off one shoulder and his eyes were even more hooded than usual, unfocused and searching while his arms hung limp by his sides. He clutched a bottle of vodka in one hand.

Y/N stood and stared, frozen on the spot with her arms in her dress ready to pull it over her head. The last thing she had expected was for the angel to show up in her bedroom, and even less expected was for him to appear drunk and looking wretched. Castiel’s gazed finally fell on her and he stared right back at her.

“Y/N…” he slurred stumbling forward a few steps before stopping to right himself.

“Cas, what are you doing here?” she asked, stunned. He frowned and tried to straighten himself, but only managed to wobble on his feet.

“You… You prayed and I came,” he replied. He looked around the room as if trying to assess the area. “I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Wait, what? You came because I prayed?”

“Yes.” He locked eyes with her at that and held her gaze. “I will always come if you pray.” The sincerity behind that statement made Y/N’s heart swell with affection toward the angel before her and she couldn’t help but smile. He stumbled forward but veered sideways and ended up grasping the deep blue doona on the bed. While he attempted to right himself again Y/N slipped her dress over her head and then made her way over to Castiel to help him.

“You do not appear to be in any danger,” Castiel stated, looking around the bedroom again. The reek of alcohol was strong, and Y/N could smell more than just vodka. She momentarily scrunched up her nose without even realising she was doing it.

“No, I’m not in any danger, Castiel.” Y/N took the bottle of vodka from him and set it on the dresser before turning him around to sit on the end of her bed. “What happened to you, anyway? How much have you had to drink?”

“All of it,” Castiel replied, swaying a little where he sat.

“All of it? How much is all of it?”

“The liquor store, I drank all of it,” he slurred testily. Y/N blinked.

“You drank an entire liquor store?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… impressive.” Y/N stared at the drunken angel in front of her wondering if there was something she should do.

“Y/N…” he rasped, voice more gravelly than normal. Hearing her name said like that sent little tingles through her belly, and it was in that moment she decided that drunk Castiel would be the death of her.

“Y/N…” he repeated, looking up at her from hooded lids, tilting his head up to get a better look at her. “I don’t believe I ever understood the human term ‘a sight for sore eyes’ until now,” he said sincerely, using air quotes. Y/N felt herself blush as he continued to gaze up at her unblinking.

“Speak for yourself,” she retorted, a little off guard.

“I am speaking for myself,” he said solemnly, and Y/N felt that tingle in her belly spread. She didn’t know what to say to that so she just kept staring.

“You prayed to me,” the angel said, almost as if he was having trouble believing it could be possible. 

“Yes, I suppose I did. To you, and to Sam and Dean. Admittedly I wasn’t expecting a house visit from it.”

“You have not lost faith in me or the Winchesters.” He seemed to search Y/N’s face for evidence to say otherwise.

“No, why would I? You three are probably the most badass people I know. You especially – you’re an angel for crying out loud.”

“A poor example of one,” he mumbled, looking away from Y/N again.

“Hey, no more of that!” She cupped his chin to bring it round to look him in the eye. “I didn’t really realise I was doing it at the time, but I prayed to you because I was worried about Sam and Dean, and of all the people I know you are the only one that I believe in enough to help them if they are really in trouble. So don’t you go putting yourself down like that, okay?” She held his gaze to make her point, her hand still cupping his cheek. He just stared back, like he couldn’t believe what he was being told.

“You prayed to me because you were worried for Sam and Dean’s safety?”

“And yours. I’ve been worried about you too.”

“I don’t deserve your belief in me,” he sighed, leaning slightly into her touch. The gesture was so small it was almost unnoticeable, but Y/N felt it and it brought the hint of a smile to her lips.

“Well, you’ve got it.” They sat for a few moments in silence, the quiet between them oddly comfortable. Y/N wondered why Castiel would think he didnt deserve her faith. He had saved her, and countless other people, simply because it was the right thing to do. To her he was the perfect angel in every sense, even when staggeringly drunk.

“Why were you praying to me to save Sam and Dean?” Castiel queried, his brow furrowed and eyes squinting the way they did when he was trying to work something out.

“I sent them on a hunt and I haven’t heard anything from them in a few days. I know they can look after themselves and are probably okay, but it sounded like there was a lot of demon stuff going on.” Y/N sounded guilty about the whole thing, and she felt it too. The idea that she could have sent the two brother’s into real danger was eating at her.

Castiel fished a cell phone from his trench coat pocket and peered at it squinting for a few moments before pressing a few buttons and then holding it to his ear. Y/N waited patiently while he listened.

“You’re right, they are in need of assistance.” He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling for a moment. "I should go."

“Wait, they aren’t hurt are they?” Y/N’s heart sank at the thought.

“No, not yet anyway.” He grasped Y/N’s shoulder and used it to hoist himself up into a standing position, still swaying on his feet. Y/N leapt up to steady him.

“Are you okay to be leaving to do that now? You still seem pretty, uh, smashed.”

“I’m fine. They need me.”

Y/N appraised him, skepticism written all over face. But if the boys really were in trouble Castiel was probably their only hope.

“Okay, if you say so. Please just... stay safe for me, okay?”

She smiled at him warmly and he stared back, blue eyes locked with her hazel ones. Without thinking about it Y/N leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek, but before her lips made contact there was a gust of wind and the sound of a coat flapping and Castiel was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm unsure how I feel about this chapter. Let me know what you think as feedback is always welcome. I love you all.


End file.
